


Once Upon a Halloween. Trick or Treat

by Dog in the Manger (anabelle)



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anabelle/pseuds/Dog%20in%20the%20Manger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-Shot.  What would happen if Mary kept the baby.  Written before Season 5 aired.</p>
<p>Mary took a pair of pliers to the door bell to stop the damn thing from jingling every five minutes. It was Monday, for Pete's sake. She would not have remembered that it was a Monday, because all the days in the week blended together into one excruciatingly long day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Halloween. Trick or Treat

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer applies. I do not own In Plain Sight or its characters. I just borrow them for entertainment, not for profit. I do not own or endorse any brands, events or establishments used in this story. The story is fictional and does not include any actual person or event.

Mary took a pair of pliers to the door bell to stop the damn thing from jingling every five minutes. It was Monday, for Pete's sake. She would not have remembered that it was a Monday, because all the days in the week blended together into one excruciatingly long day. Marshall had told her this year Halloween fell on a Monday. If flocks of kids rolling onto her porch clamoring for candy non-stop since four in the afternoon were any indication then today sure as hell was a Monday.

Mary recalled the Halloween of the prior year: returning from a witness transfer with Marshall and spending half the night at a bar, leaving Jinx and Brandi to fend off the candy gathering children. The partners had just mended the friendship Mary almost broke by doing Faber… Before Abigail came into the picture. How had Mary's life changed in a year…?

The intended eight weeks of bed rest turned into six, because the rug rat just could not wait to come out into the world. At thirty eight weeks, the doctors refused to stop Mary's contractions and eighteen hours later Jamie was born. Bed rest was not so bad actually, once you got past the cramps: Mary got caught up on all the daytime television she never wanted to watch and read a few books. Well, in truth, she listened to the books, and not just a few, but a library worth, because Marshall kept her IPod loaded with new stuff making sure she never ran out of reading material. There were philosophy books, sociology books, mysteries, biographies, New York Times Bestseller list books and obscure literature as well as a few science fiction novels he knew she secretly enjoyed, but would never admit to, even after being partnered with him for eight years. Indeed, bed rest was not so bad after all.

It was what came afterward, turned her life ass backwards. Hormones. She blamed those Goddamn hormones. Life altering decisions should never be made under duress. She should have planned this better. You would think that nine months was plenty a time to make a rational decision, but clearly not enough for Mary Shannon. After nine months of denial, she pulled out of the adoption on impulse and kept the baby. What was she thinking? She was not maternal and could not stand kids. But when she heard her son cry out after being born, her fate was sealed: she could not give him away.

As much as she loved her son, certain things put a damper on the happy mood. For example, Mary did not remember the last time she took a shower or washed her hair. She was just happy to have a hair tie handy to keep the oily mess from falling into her face.

It was dark outside already: she leaned over the sink and stared at her reflection in the window. The sound from the baby monitor sitting on the granite counter next to the sink brought her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the clock, realizing it was time to feed the kid, again. Her life was now running on a tight schedule: the kid ate every two hours and complained loudly whenever she tried to stretch the feeding intervals.

Abigail gave Mary a parenting book and a diaper cake, when the detective learned Mary kept the baby. The book was worthless, as far as Mary was concerned. She tossed it into the trash after the first sleepless night, when she woke her son up just to make sure he was breathing… twice... in one night, after staying up to read the chapter on SIDS. That time would have been better spent catching up on much needed sleep. The was full of mysterious suggestions to sleep while the baby sleeps, which worked only if you did not have anything else to do, otherwise, you lived alone it meant you did not get much sleep if at all.

So there she was, eight weeks after giving birth, in the middle of her house, tired and alone, tending to her baby. Everybody left. Except Marshall. But he was busy lately, pulling her weight with the witnesses: as eager as Delia was, the drive did not make up for experience, and the young Inspector was still wet behind the ears to handle Mary's caseload. Marshall was training her patiently, meticulously, just like he did with Mary some odd years back. Her partner could work well with anyone and everyone… Where did that leave her? What had she gotten herself into? What was she thinking keeping her son?

Mark did not leave either, strictly speaking. Realizing Mary did not give up their son, Mark stayed with them for a week, banished to the couch, trying to weasel his way back into her life or at least her bed. She yelled, then cried, then kicked him out. He returned in a week to try again with corny gestures, fake words, and a stupid grin. She was lonely and miserable, but saw through the charade. Mary could not bring to herself to care for her ex. The past should have stayed in the past. Now, the only person that mattered to her was only slightly longer than the length between her hand and her elbow. Jamie took over her whole heart, except for the piece reserved for another: the forbidden fruit. The feeling buried deep enough to ignore, but not quite deep enough not to hurt.

"Trick or treat!" Mary pulled open the door and shoved the bowl of candy at the person on the other side expecting to see yet another giddy parent with a dressed up, but clueless toddler. Looking up she saw Marshall. Speak of the devil. She tiredly set the bowl back on the stool next to the door.

Lack of sleep was definitely wearing her thin. What has the world come to: she did not recognize her partner's voice. Not that she had seen much of him lately. In four weeks, Mary was returning to work. Short term disability and maternity leave was nearing its end. Thank God for that: she was going stir crazy in the confines of her house, grateful for biweekly trips to Costco or Babies "R" Us to pick up yet another case of formula or diapers.

"Hey, Mare, where'd you go?" her partner asked, handing her a box of chocolates.

"I think you got it backwards dimwit, you are supposed to get candy, not bring candy."

"Are you complaining?"

"Nope. Where's Nancy Drew?"

"She had a thing at the station."

"Uh-huh. Still mad at me about the formula?"

"You have to admit, Mare, using the baby bottle as a water gun and aiming at her new dress wasn't the most mature thing you've done."

"Whatever. She should be grateful I'm not breastfeeding."

"Um, eww?"

"No one gets to tell me how to raise my kid, in my kitchen no less."

"And lives to tell about it."

Mary eyed her partner curiously. There was something different about him today.

"What's wrong, Marshall?"

"Why would you say something's wrong?"

"A hunch?"

"You'll have to do better than that…"

"C'mon, partner, I know you. Renting a room, remember? Something is bugging you. Spill."

"Just thinking about last year… Listen, you look like crap."

"Gee, thanks Marshall!"

"I mean it. You want me to stay tonight? You look you could use some sleep and a shower. I can take over tending to Jamie. What do you say?"

"How about, you're a Saint? And thank you?" she gave him a peck on the cheek and padded off to her bedroom.

Marshall set the baby monitor down on the coffee table, turned the TV on low and sunk into the couch to watch the marathon of Friday the 13th. He would turn in for the night in the guest room in a few hours. Marshall knew where everything was in this house, not needing Mary's help to find the bed linens or baby gear.

After some time passed, when he did not hear the water turn on in the shower, he walked by Mary's room and peered inside. She was collapsed on top of the covers, fully clothed and dead to the world. He grabbed a blanket from the couch, draped it over her sleeping form and went to check on Jamie.


End file.
